


and are you looking out for us?

by lonelyghosts



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Conspiracy Theories, Gen, Not Canon Compliant - The Homestuck Epilogues, Post-Canon, an alternate take on what would happen post-game, but i also like cryptid kids!, endgame pairings, i love the post-game gods hc as much as anyone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-08-20 19:10:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20232922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonelyghosts/pseuds/lonelyghosts
Summary: There are stories, about the smallest and most impossible things.





	and are you looking out for us?

There are stories about them, you know. 

Just whispers, barely. But true ones, that ring with clarity and belief.

Get an astronaut drunk. Really drunk. Probe them with questions. They'll tell you about seeing a woman in space, who dances brightly and sprightly in the weightlessness of gravity, no spacesuit, simply dressed in a long black dress. Watch her long enough, and after a while, she'll fade into the darkness of the vast empty surrounding them, into the stars and void. At least one swears that her tether snapped once and the woman brought her back. 

Sometimes, she'll wave.

The most brilliant of seamsters will occasionally find their creations tweaked, just a little, a stitch or two there changed, the cut fastened hanging perhaps a little more sharply or swooping down further. They swear each alteration is fundamentally transformative, turns a good outfit into a masterpiece. 

Detectives find notes and tips on their desks sometimes, things no one could possibly have known, and they're always right. Good lawyers get pieces of evidence in their inboxes right before big trials, and each case goes down as one for history books. Computer programmers find small, impossible bugs in their code worked out, with no evidence of who the editor was. 

In hospitals there is a woman in bright blue who will hold your hand through birth, who will comfort and soothe you when the enormity of disease catches up to you, who watches over babies in the NICU. She sings lullabies and does not flinch at blood, will snap orders at surgeons who clearly don't know what they're doing.

Elders speak of a woman in red who walks their dreams and speaks of a promise of a better tomorrow- just hold on a little longer, she'll tell you, it's alright, just a little longer and then you can come with me. Those with near-death experiences will talk about a woman who told them it was not their time. She never stops smiling.

At meetings of the faithful, at protests full of righteousness, there will sometimes be a man who stands there and nods or holds a sign of his own and no one knows his name but he yells at protests and smiles in holy places. He never stays long enough for someone to ask his name.

Some say there is a man with wings who will come to your aid when you don't know how to say no, to infuse you with the strength you didn't know you had. He will dry your tears and tell you it is okay to cry, and that is fine, and that is what makes you alive.

There's a girl who attends Alcoholics Anonymous meetings and will speak from experience and wears pink heart-shaped glasses, and her smile is bittersweet. "If I can do it, you can too," she says, and somehow they believe her. She never attends twice.

When siblings snarl and break bones and no one believes you, the forums say, sometimes a figure draped in black will come. Her skin is green and her teeth are sharp, and she will ask if you need help. Say yes. What she provides is a saving grace.

Folks speak of a man in orange with a scar on his dark throat who undos knots, who dulls blades, who hides the pills when you reach for them. He flickers in and out and sometimes there seem to be more than one of him. 

And for the little girls who have lost their identities to the stories of other people comes a little girl herself, who has a sad smile and buckteeth and frizzy hair and big round Harry-Potter glasses. She will take your hands and say "everything you are is a story worth telling," and she speaks the truth. 

In the darkness of apartments where none of it seems to matter, where dishes pile up and laundry lies on the floor and someone sits, boneless tired just from waking up, sometimes the dishes will become clean, and a piano melody drifts from somewhere you cannot tell. It is sad but hopeful, and sounds like Chopin.

For the girls who find their mothers drinking late, who cannot seem to discover how to be loved, who are burning and bright and screaming in the dark, there is another, blonde and lilac-eyed, who will leave books on the windowsill and tell stories and say, none of it is your fault. 

The boys with bruises have a man dressed all in red with black shades who sneaks in at night, and sometimes he brings death to the ones who hurt them. Sometimes he brings healing to their scratches and wounds. He never leaves without helping.

And for the girls who want nothing more than to be more than what their world has made them, they have the taste of salt in their mouth and a woman in blue who says, _they are wrong about you_. 

No one ever makes the connection between them. But they don't need to. At the end of the night each of them go home to a secret place, and know they have each saved the world again. And maybe it's not fighting the way they once did, but it's enough. For them, and for the world, it's enough. .

**Author's Note:**

> in order, the characters mentioned/alluded to are: jade, kanaya, terezi, sollux, jane, aradia, karkat, jake, roxy, calliope, dirk, jade again, egbert, rose, dave, vriska


End file.
